


Half of My Heart

by BMDM_01



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-01-16 16:26:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12346359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BMDM_01/pseuds/BMDM_01
Summary: What do you do when half of your heart breaks?





	1. But We Lost It

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a new one. I know most of you can’t believe this would happen but bare with me. There is some smut. Enjoy. Kudos and comments welcome!

October 12, 2017

 

Theresa slowly lifted her head from its bent position over the seemingly never ending stack of papers.  _6:30,_ she thought,  _I really should spend time with Philip. I haven’t gotten to sit and have a real conversation with him for days._ And she was right. The most she had spoken lately was ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’ with chaste kisses afterwards. Gosh, she couldn’t remember the last time she even felt up to sex. Between the infighting and calls for her resignation, she just wanted to sleep when she crawled in bed. She felt bad for the lack of intimacy with her husband. That part of their marriage had never suffered; they had always found time for each other. 

 

 

She remembered once when she was Home Secretary, and it had been her birthday. Philip brought her lunch, and it ended with her pinned against her office door with her legs wrapped around his waist, biting his shoulder to muffle the moans she was letting out. Theresa came out of the memory and pushed back from her desk, deciding her husband was more important than paperwork. She couldn’t help but grin as thoughts of what she was going to get up to with her husband crossed her mind. She felt it slowly fade as she exited her office. 

 

 

Philip was standing and talking with one of her aides, Sara, a petite brunette with a figure to kill for who was in her mid-twenties. They were laughing at something, failing to notice Theresa was standing there. Sara tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before reaching up and straightening Philip’s tie. She leaned in and said something that made him guffaw. Theresa felt her hear seize at the sight, and she cleared her throat, feeling jealousy rise in her. Philip looked up, eyes twinkling as he made his way to her. He pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. Theresa gave a tight smile. 

 

 

“Well, Mr., Mrs. May, have a good night!” Sara called as she sashayed down the hall, disappearing into one of the many offices. 

 

 

“I was just about to come see if you wanted to come up,” Philip said as he ran the hand that was at the small of her back lower. 

 

 

Theresa, still feeling the tightness of the green-eyed monster, gave him a mischievous smile, “More than happy to.”

 

 

They made it to their flat at 11 Downing Street with Theresa having to stop her husband’s wandering hands more than once. She had been surprised when she rounded the corner to see the dining room table set, “You did all of this?”

 

 

”I thought you would be tired. So, I ordered from Francesca’s,” he said leading her to her seat and holding it for her. He gave her a kiss on the temple, “I know how much you love their fettuccine.” Theresa, still shocked, slowly sat. She was even more surprised when her husband sat beside her instead of across.

 

 

”This means so much, Darling. Thank you,” she said as she took a sip of her wine. 

 

 

Philip leaned over, nuzzling her neck, “Anything for you, Princess.” 

 

 

He was sat to the left of her, and he let his right hand rest on her upper left thigh, rubbing up and down. Theresa could feel the goosebumps start raising as they began eating. They talked and joked and laughed. It felt like normal again, and Philip couldn’t keep his hands off of her. She was more than happy to be the recipient of her husband’s desire, but she couldn’t shake the picture of him and Sara from her mind.

 

 

_You’re being irrational,_ she thought. But this nagging little voice in the back of her head kept saying, ‘Are you? Could you blame him?’

 

 

She was brought out of her thoughts as Philip started clearing the dishes. He picked up her plate while asking, “Do you want me to run you a bath or...?”

 

 

”No. I’ll do it, but thank you for asking,” she said before leaning in and giving him a lingering kiss. Theresa broke it, beaming at her husband. She watched as he went to the kitchen, grinning like an idiot. She headed to the bedroom, pulling various articles of clothing off as she went and kicking her shoes off when she passed their closet. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was in nothing but her underwear. She let out a small gasp when she saw a basket full of her favorite bath salts, soaps, and oils.

 

 

_Philip, how could I ever doubt you?_

 

 

She filled the tub, making sure the temperature was just right, before adding a generous amount of lavender oil. She was going to make sure this night was special for her husband after everything he had done. So, she took her time bathing and shaving and putting on the lotion he said he liked so much and attempting to not style her hair as she dried it because she knew he loves to run his hands through it. She even put on the silky dark purple babydoll nightie he bought her for her birthday last year, hiding it underneath her normal robe.

 

 

Emerging from the the bedroom, she found her husband sitting on the couch, talking on the phone. “No, the hotel is booked. I’m so glad she hasn’t found out yet. She almost caught us in the hallway earlier...I know. I just really want this weekend to go well,” he said. Theresa covered her mouth with her hand to keep any sound from coming out as he went on, “She’s in the bath right now...mmhm. I’m so happy you thought this up, Sara.” Theresa felt tears welling up, “Well, goodnight...bye.”

 

 

Theresa couldn’t believe it. Thirty-seven years wasted on some...girl. If this was about sex, then Theresa would prove to him that she could be so much better than what he expected from Sara. She walked up behind her husband, sliding her hands over his shoulders and under his shirt. He had taken his jacket, tie, and shoes off while she was in the bath. 

 

 

Theresa leaned down and started kissing his neck. “Why don’t you follow me to the bedroom?” She asked as she walked back towards the door to their room before she stopped and looked at him over her shoulder, dropping her robe. She heard the groan from her husband and she stepped over the threshold onto soft carpet. She took a deep breath as she tried to push the thought of her husband’s infidelity out of her mind. She refused to lose him to some...slut just because she hadn’t been there to spread her legs recently. She felt Philip wrap his arms around her waist as he started kissing the back of her neck. She sighed,  _Maybe it’s not what I think it is._ But there was that voice again, ‘Maybe it is.’

 

 

Philip turned her around and placed his hands on either side of her face, “I love you so much, Theresa Mary May. So much.” He brought her lips to his and pried open her mouth with his tongue. He had maneuvered them so that he was sitting on the end of the bed with her straddling him. He ran his hands up and down her back before letting them rest on her behind. Theresa pulled back from the kiss, smiling triumphantly as she held up his shirt, leaving him bare chested. 

 

 

“Stand up,” she said as she slipped off his lap. When he did, she immediately removed his belt before yanking his pants and boxers down. Philip kicked them off before Theresa pushed him to sit back on the bed, kneeling between his open thighs. Philip looked down at his wife, amazed that after all this time she would still willingly do this. He knew many male friends whose wives would hardly even touch them. He let his hand run through her hair as she stroked him. She let her left hand settle at his base before licking the underside of his erection. 

 

 

“God, Theresa,” he moaned out. She took the tip of him in her mouth before swirling her tongue around it. She felt his hand grasp the back of her head tighter as she started bobbing it up and down. 

 

 

_I know my husband. I know what he likes, and I’m going to make him forget whatever expectations he has for that bitch._

 

 

She sped up, using her left hand to rub what she couldn’t take in. Philip’s hips were bucking off of the bed when she felt him grab her shoulders and pull her on the bed. “I want you, Theresa.”

 

 

Theresa nodded as her husband pulled the scrap of silk over her head, leaving her in nothing but the matching underwear. He pushed her onto the bed as he crawled over her, placing his hand on her center, rubbing her through the fabric. “Philip,” she gasped. 

 

 

Philip pulled the underwear down, discarding them on the floor. He placed himself at her entrance, looking into her eyes for permission. When she nodded, he pushed in and groaned. Theresa wrapped her arms around his waist as they started the familiar act. He started kissing her neck again, kissing his way up to her ear. “So, Princess, glad I came and got you?” He whispered. 

 

 

Theresa went cold, her mind conjuring up images of him and Sara together in some hotel room. She could see it. Them together in bed, doing this. Philip whispering things in her ear the way he did to Theresa, asking if she liked it or saying how beautiful she was or God forbid, saying ‘I love you.’ Theresa pushed her husband off of her, rushing to the bathroom to empty the contents of her stomach. 

 

 

“Are you okay?” Philip asked, running in and kneeling beside her. He started rubbing her back in circles. 

 

 

Theresa couldn’t bring herself to look at him. The fear of crying took over her so she nodded her head, eyes tightly closed, “Maybe some water would help?”

 

 

”Of course,” he said, hurrying to the kitchen. 

 

 

Theresa reached over and grabbed the oversized shirt she usually slept in off the shelf by the shower and pulled it on. She dragged herself up and to the dresser for a pair of underwear before slipping in bed. 

 

 

Philip entered, still naked as the day he was born, and saw his wife propped against the headboard. “Here is your water,” he said placing it on her bedside table. She took a sip before leaning her head back. “Is it your sugar?”

 

 

”No. I’m just exhausted. I might be getting a stomach bug. One has been going around,” she lied.

 

 

”That doesn’t sound good,” he said as he pulled on a pair of boxers, about to get back in bed when Theresa stopped him. 

 

 

“Would...would you sleep in the spare room? I don’t want you to catch this,” she asked. She didn’t think the pictures of him cheating would leave her mind anytime soon, and the hurt and anger wasn’t fading either. She wanted as much space between them as possible. 

 

 

Philip looked up, hurt and confusion in his eyes, “I think we’re probably passed that point.”

 

 

”Maybe. Please?”

 

 

Philip couldn’t quite wrap his mind around it. She always wanted him near her when she was sick. “If that’s what you want.”

 

 

”Thank you.”

 

 

”Alright,” he said as he kissed her on the forehead. 

 

 

Philip was confused as he laid in the unfamiliar bed across the hall from his wife. And Theresa was silently crying. She pulled his pillow to her chest as she quietly prayed, “God, don't let it be true. Please don’t let it be true.”


	2. Sandcastles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to Sandcastles by Beyonce. It makes it better. Please don’t kill me!

They had made it home to Sonning. Theresa had increasingly pushed Philip away. She made sure she left before him in the morning and got home well after he was asleep. She had even woken up, face down on her desk after trying to hold out for another hour. All of her emotions were barely containable. The worst of it was when she looked at him as he slept, wondering what she did and remembering all the promises they had made over the years. She could recall each and every one of them. Like when Philip promised to always protect her right before he said ‘I love you’ the first time or how she promised that no matter what, she would never let her passion for politics become more important than their marriage. She remembered the vows they took because they had been etched into her heart as they were said. 

 

 

It was too much for her. Her heart had been shattered, and instead of Philip being there to help pick up the pieces like normal, he had been the one with the hammer banging on the glass. She ached, physically, emotionally, and mentally. Theresa tried to take comfort in her Bible and prayer, but it did little good as her heartache was just too raw.

 

 

When they had arrived home yesterday, she nearly sobbed walking through the door. Their home, the place they built together, was mocking her. Pictures of their life seemed to be laughing at her, pointing fingers and calling her stupid. Her husband, the very support she leaned on, the foundation of her, had broken her. The promises they had made reminded her of the sandcastles they had built at the beach one time. They had, had another heartbreak in a long line of many, and Philip had insisted she get out of the house. So, he took her to the beach. He had been so childlike, begging she help him build a sandcastle and pouting after it washed away. 

 

 

She wished for the beginning all over again. That time when she was enough, and they were so full of life and love and hope. Theresa wanted for the brightness of that day at the beach and for the serenity of that moment; not the dashed sand of a crumbling structure or the sadness of watching something you work so hard at be dragged away as if it were never there. 

 

 

Theresa had been sitting on the couch when Philip came downstairs. He sat by her, letting his arm rest on her legs, but she recoiled, as if it burned. Philip caught the wince of discomfort on his wife’s face, and it hurt. He hasn’t forgotten an important date or done anything recently to make her upset. “What’s wrong, Theresa? Please talk to me,” he said softly. 

 

 

The the tone of his voice made tears come to her eyes. She looked away, the dark circles from lack of sleep showing. “Nothing. Nothing is wrong,” she said, voice so small it was barely audible. 

 

 

Philip scooted closer to her. “You’re lying. Did someone do or say something? Did I do or say something? Please. Tell me, Princess,” he mumbled, grabbing her hand. 

 

 

Theresa snatched her hand away before standing up. “Don’t call me that!”

 

 

Shocked, Philip slowly stood. He walked over to where his wife was standing, her back to him. “What did I do?” He asked as he put his hands on her shoulders. 

 

 

Turning, Theresa pushed him away from her, “Don’t touch me either!” She fled to the kitchen, trying to put space between her and her husband. 

 

 

Philip quickly followed. “I don’t know what I did or why you’re acting like this, but I’m sorry,” he said hoping to calm her down. 

 

 

“I’m so glad you think sorry will fix it,” she said sarcastically. 

 

 

“Well, if you would tell me what I did, I could properly apologize!”

 

 

Theresa turned from facing the window. She stared into the blue of her husband’s eyes as she said, “I don’t think an apology is going to fix it!”

 

 

Philil was angry by the lack of knowing what he had done, “What did I do?!”

 

 

”You know exactly what you did!”

 

 

”No! I don’t!” He yelled. 

 

 

“Don’t you dare play coy!” She said pointing her finger at him. She couldn’t stop the anger from seeping out of her. 

 

 

“How can I play coy when I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!? Besides, it’s not like I see you enough to have actually done something!” He said in anger. 

 

 

Theresa couldn’t believe it. “Excuse me?!” Her eyes flashed with fury. 

 

 

“You heard me! I never see you. Ever! It’s like I’m competing with your red box!”

 

 

_I have always made time for you, for us._ “I make sure I always spend time with you!”

 

 

”No you don’t! You’ve been avoiding me at all costs lately! Even before all of this,” he said, referring to their current argument by gesturing to the both of them, “you hardly were around. It’s like I have to make an appointment to see you!”

 

 

”That isn’t true! You have always been my number one priority, and you know that!”

 

 

”Do I!?” His eyes turning darker with fury. “You don’t even want to share a bed with me anymore! You don’t want sex! You don’t want to be touched! Nothing! You really have been an ice maiden, you know that! Completely fucking frigid!”

 

 

Theresa’s eyes flashed with rage, fists clenching by her side. “How DARE you! Maybe if you weren’t so needy, I would want you! But no! It’s always ‘I want’ and ‘I need’!”

 

 

Philip slammed a fist on the table, breaking the plate his hand collided with and making Theresa jump. “I’m needy?! I’m needy?! Says the woman who constantly needs validation!”

 

 

Theresa could feel the sting of hurt, her heart lurching at his words. “Yes! You are needy!”

 

 

”Do you even love me anymore, Theresa?! Or am I just another prop for the public?!”

 

 

Theresa could feel the tears coming. “How could you even think that?” she asked. 

 

 

His blood was boiling and he couldn’t stop himself from saying the things he knew he would regret. “Oh! I don’t know! Maybe, the fact that you were all over me when we were on summer vacation and now, nothing! Use me for fun because you didn’t have your red box?! I mean, it’s not the first time you let your job get in the way!”

 

 

”And what is that suppose to mean, pray tell!?” She said crossing her arms protectively in front of her, preparing herself for his next blow. The kitchen island was the only thing separating them. 

 

 

Philip couldn’t stop himself. “Well, let’s see! You were too busy climbing the career ladder to slow down enough and take care of yourself so you lost not one, not two, but three babies!” He said counting on his fingers. Theresa let out an audible gasp. “Is that why you married me, huh?! Settled for some nice bloke who could give you a baby?! Well, you fucked that up too!”

 

 

”Get out! Get out right now!” She screamed as tears rolled down her cheeks. 

 

 

“Gladly!” Philip said walking out of the front door, slamming it behind him. The MI5 agents had heard the shouting and they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. The Mays never fought. Ever. Philip walked out of the gate surrounding their house. He could see his bodyguard following from a distance. He just couldn’t believe she was acting like this. He knew he shouldn’t have said some of the things he had, but she had pushed him over the edge. How could she be so cold? So distant? So...bitchy? He just needed some air, some space to clear his mind so he could think straight. Anger was still coursing through his veins.

 

 

Theresa was still in shock, heart burning with anger and hurt. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped off of her face onto the hardwood floors. Her throat was closing up with the sobs, and it was raw from yelling. She couldn’t wrap her head around the things Philip had said to her. She found herself slipping down into a seat at the kitchen table. He had really blamed her for losing their babies. She couldn’t take it anymore, the pent up emotions that were pressing on her heart. 

 

............

 

It has been several hours since his outburst, and he felt absolutely awful. He had actually said the miscarriages were her fault when he knew her condition was the reason. Oh, he had been vile. He had been nasty. He had been a downright ass. And to the person he loves more than anything in the world. Philip had just despondently walked around his neighborhood, passing the time by thinking of happier times with his girl. He had eventually decided that he had to face her, to beg for her forgiveness, even if that meant groveling. 

 

 

He slowly slipped his key in the door, unlocking then pushing it open. “Theresa?” He tentatively called. Nothing. He walked in, seeing the kitchen light on. He silently crept towards the doorway, expecting to see her probably crying at the table, but no one was there. He did see an envelope with his name on it in Theresa’s handwriting. He picked it up, sitting as he read. 

 

 

_My dearest Philip,_

_Do you know how much I love you? Really love you? I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, knowing you were the only one who would ever have my heart. I remember our first date, and how you put your arm around me. I remember our first kiss, and the way you slipped your hands around my waist. I remember how awkward the first time we made love was. I remember how you used to click your pen when you studied, and the way your hair would curl when it rained, and the way you used flex your hands when you were nervous. I remember these things because it was in these moments that I felt love overwhelm me. I love being the only one who knows that you have a scar under your ribs on your left side because you saved a baby bird from falling out of a tree, and I love knowing that you are most ticklish on your upper thighs. I love you so much, my love, that I even remember what that stuffed lion you slept with as a child looked like. You showed me the first time you brought me home, and one of its ears was flower patterned because it was torn off by the neighborhood stray._

_And because I love you so much, I’m letting you go. I’ve packed up my things and have gone back to Downing Street. I’ll come back and get everything else eventually. Please don’t follow me. I may never understand what I did that made me not enough for you. It breaks my heart to walk away from you, because you are my everything, my heart and soul. You can have the house, and the memories with it. I can’t stay there. It’s too much. I hope you and Sara are happy. I hope she gives you the children I know you so desperately want. Maybe she’ll do things right. Maybe she’ll be the half of your heart you can’t live without like you are mine. I do love you so much._

_With my heart,_

_Theresa_

 

Philip sat back in shock. He couldn’t believe she thought he was cheating on her. He would never, could never. Theresa was his everything. He notice there was a slight bulge in the envelope so he tipped it over. Her wedding rings fell out. 


	3. Yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long. Enjoy!

Tears slipped down Theresa’s face as she aimlessly stared out of the window of the Jaguar. Trees whizzed past, reminding her of the years of her life, slowly but all at once. She missed the yesterdays of her life, when things were simple and she was...whole. She missed waking up and stretching and smiling, but now, it was an alarm clock howling and rushing to get ready because there just weren’t enough hours in a day. She missed being carefree and goofy and laughing without hesitation. Her mind was in overdrive trying to remember happiness without a price, love without tragedy. All she really wanted was to talk to her parents, have her mother hold her as she sobbed and her father impart wisdom to her. She felt herself speak without realizing what she was saying, “Take me to Wheatley.” Her driver raised his eyebrows but turned to make the trip to his boss’s old stomping ground. 

 

 

.................

 

Two hours it had been since Philip found his wife had left. He read and re-read the letter over and over again, trying and failing to wrap his head around the fact she thought he was cheating on her.  _How could she? And with Sara? What could I have poss-_ he groaned; she had seen him laughing with Sara in the hallway, and then he remembered how quickly she had pushed him off of her the last time they had, had sex.  _Oh, no. She probably heard us talking on the phone._ Philip wiped his hand down his face at how wrong Theresa had it. 

 

 

Standing, he turned. He wanted to punch himself when he saw the smashed plate on the island. He felt disgusting when he thought of the fear in his wife’s eyes. Shame rose in him when the very figment that she thought he might physically harm her crossed his mind. He saw her flinch and step back as the sound of china cracking against granite reverberated in the kitchen, and he wanted to apologize. For everything. After all, it was one big misunderstanding. 

 

 

His limbs felt like weights from the heartbreak as he dragged himself to the liquor cabinet. Pulling out a bottle of whiskey and a crystal tumbler, he poured himself a healthy measure. He usually didn’t drink the stuff, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a damn. He had said things that made reconciliation look like a pipe dream.  _Already lost my wife. Might as well lose my senses._

 

 

...............

 

Theresa looked at the familiar stone structure of the church. This was it. She had married her, hoped to have her children christened here, and buried her parents here; she experienced happiness, hope, and heartache here. The silhouette of the church against the setting sun made it picturesque. Looking back, she asked her security detail, “Could you-could you keep a...distance? Please?” The lead nodded; he had never heard the amount of defeat in her voice in, well, anyone. 

 

 

She walked the familiar gravel path up to the entrance, smiling slightly as she saw the plaque that read ‘Church of St. Mary the Virgin’  before pulling the door open and walking through. Stopping, she looked at the wall of former vicars, eyes glazing over as she saw her father’s picture. She blinked Back the tears as she walked into the chapel, thinking back to all the happy memories she had made there. Her wedding day was the most obvious; it warmed her heart while simultaneously breaking it all over again. She remembered the look on Philip’s face, his eyes so full of love and adoration with a smile that got rid of any of her nerves. The sun had been so bright that day, streaming through stained glass windows. Now, it was dark, barely any light at all.  _What a wonderful metaphor for my marriage._

 

 

Quickly walking through, she found her feet moving of their own accord. Before she knew it, she was kneeled in front of her parents’ grave. The old stone cross brought her a sense of comfort as she searched for something to say. “Oh, Daddy, you would be so disappointed. So would you, Mum,” she sobbed out, thick tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’ve let so many people down: you two, my party, the entire country, and worst of all, Philip. I’ve failed him as a wife, and I can’t stand to put him through it anymore, so I left. He’s found someone better. Someone who isn’t uptight or insecure or...reproductively useless.”

 

 

The sheer disdain she had in her words for herself made her guards tear up. “How could she even say that?” one whispered. 

 

 

“The poor woman. Her only real enemy is the lack of confidence she has in herself. She has a good mind and an even better heart. She just needs to use them. And Mr. May would never cheat; he loves her to bits,” the other said before they turned their attention back to the prime minister who was on her knees. 

 

 

Theresa ran her hand over the engraved name, Brasier. “I never thought I would be going back to this name. Maybe I won’t. I just wish you were here. So you could tell me it’s alright, and you’re still proud of me. That I did a good job...that I’m not a failure.”

 

 

...................

 

Tipsy but still able to function, Philip shakily dialed his wife’s number. “Pick up. Please pick up,” he said to himself. Twenty unanswered calls and all of his texts left on read did nothing to help his worries. He had to talk to her, explain everything. 

 

 

Sara had been given charge over Theresa’s schedule, and he had enlisted her in surprising his wife with a small holiday before Christmas, to make up for her birthday being during the conference. That was it. Nothing else. In fact, Sara is gay. The day Theresa saw them in the hall, she had just said she had a crush on Ruth Davidson. 

 

 

“Come on, answer!” he exclaimed as he was sent to straight to voicemail again. 

 

 

..................

 

”Where to, ma’am?” Asked her driver. 

 

 

“Downing Street.” She almost said Sonning, almost. “And, Tim?”

 

 

”Yes, ma’am?”

 

 

”From now on, it’s only Downing Street.”

 

 

...................

 

”You’ve got to be kidding me!” Philip raged. Still no answers. “Caryl?!” He called for his MI5 agent. 

 

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

 

”Will you call Matt? He doesn’t have to let me speak to her. I just want to make sure she’s okay,” he said softly. 

 

 

It broke Caryl’s heart to hear the surrender in his voice. “Yes, I’ll call.”

 

 

Looking down, he wiped tears away, “Thank you.”

 

 

...................

 

Rushing through the hallways of Downing Street, Theresa was livid. She had worked herself up in the car, that little voice in her head telling her to confront Sara. Finding her in her office, Theresa slammed the door. Sara looked up, ready to tell whoever did that off when she was met with the steely gaze of her boss. She quickly stood, trying to look presentable. 

 

 

“Are you happy?” Theresa asked calmly, raking her eyes over the brunette. 

 

 

Sara felt the silent rage radiating from Theresa, and she was confused. “Y-yes, ma’am. I think.”

 

 

Bzzzzz! Bzzzzzz! Sara’s phone vibrated as the screen lit up with Philip May’s name. 

 

 

................

 

”Great! Now she won’t answer. I just need her to cancel the room,” he said as he hung his head in his hands. 

 

 

Caryl came in. “Sir, Matt said they went to Wheatley then Downing Street.”

 

 

”Thank you. I’m sure she went to visit her parents’ graves. She usually does that when she’s upset.”

 

 

..................

 

Theresa could feel her heart crack in her body. Her husband was calling his mistress to tell her he was finally free, and it made Theresa sick to her stomach. 

 

 

Sara quickly shut it off and looked up to apologize. “I am so sorry. I shouldn’t ev-“ she paused, noticing the sudden paleness of her boss. “Are you Alright, ma’am? Do you need to sit?” She started to make her way to Theresa when she was stopped by the older woman holding her hand up. 

 

 

“He likes lavender,” Theresa said softly, brokenly. 

 

 

“Wh-what?”

 

 

”Philip. He likes the smell of lavender. And he’ll want to cuddle constantly. He will always want to take care of you and protect you; let him, even when it’s annoying.”

 

 

”Ma’am, I don’t kno-“

 

 

”Let me finish,” she said, cutting the younger woman off. “You can’t use Dove soap because it breaks him out. His favorite food is baked duck. Never leave him alone with the biscuit tin, and he’ll always misplace his glasses.” She was about to leave when she stopped and looked back and felt herself speak. “Just, please, take care of him and love him and let him steal the covers, okay? Give him everything you have because God knows, he’ll give you his all. Make him happy and give him the babies I couldn’t. But please, please, don’t break his heart.” With that, Theresa left, leaving a shocked Sara in her wake. 


	4. Water Under the Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more to go...
> 
> (also, this was inspired by Adele's 'Water Under the Bridge')

"Damn it, Philip! Pick up the phone!" Damien mumbled as he tried calling his university friend for the umpteenth time. Sat in the back of his government car, he was running through everything he had witnessed and heard the day before.

 

 

................

 

_The Previous Day_

 

 

Damien watched Theresa sit dejectedly on the front bench. He had seen her, his friend of forty years, look defeated before, but, today, it seemed her very soul was crushed. She wore no makeup, no jewelry, her hair was flat, her nail polish, chipped, her eyes were puffy, her face sallow, and the dark circles had never been deeper. She looked broken, and broken was something that Theresa May wore. Her responses to Jeremy Corbyn's shouted questions were almost monosyllabic and less than enthusiastic. It seemed someone had finally stomped out the fire in her belly, and Damien was shocked. Never, had he seen anyone look like that.

 

 

It was when Theresa flicked through her binder when she sat down that he noticed her bare ring finger. _That's odd_ , he thought. Then it hit him: _it must have something to do with Philip_. As soon as PMQ's were over, he bolted from his seat, determined to get to the cause of his dear friend's misery. He thought of calling his wife, Alicia, but decided against it, knowing she would have told him by now. Hurrying to his office, he shut the door and sat, wracking his brain for hours and dreaming up various scenarios for what could have possibly gone wrong. He had hit wall after wall when trying to imagine something going haywire in the May's marriage; if anyone came close to perfect, it was those two. He was tempted to just ask, but he knew better. Neither one of them would talk until they were ready. He decided to call it a day and was heading out of the Commons when he heard a group, two women and a man, gossiping by the door. Pausing, he made the decision to listen.

 

 

"Did you see her today? She looked awful," a petite blonde girl said.

 

 

"I would to if my husband did what hers did," the redheaded woman said.

 

 

"What on earth happened?" the man spoke up.

 

 

The redhead leaned in and lowered her voice as if it was confidential, "Well, I have a friend who works at Downing Street, and she told me that Mr. May has been paying quite a lot of attention to Sara Smith."

 

 

The boy looked confused. "Her scheduler?"

 

 

"Mhmm. She said that Theresa showed back up Saturday night," she paused for extra drama, "alone."

 

 

There were gasps from the other two. "But," the other girl said, "she doesn't come back from Berkshire until Monday morning, sometimes Sunday night."

 

 

The woman who obviously was a regular gossip spoke up, "My friend said Mrs. May looked upset and like she had been crying. Then, apparently, she stormed in Sara Smith's office and slammed the door; she left twenty minutes later on the verge of tears. She said Sara looked shell-shocked. And if you look closely, she's not wearing a wedding band."

 

 

"So?" the young man asked.

 

 

"So...it means Philip May cheated. And he's either asked for a divorce or she's found out and left him."

 

 

That was all Damien needed. He blocked everything else out, debating what he should do with this newfound information. He didn't leave his home office for the rest of the night, even ignoring Alicia and her call for dinner.

 

 

..................

 

And that's how he found himself on his way to Sonning; he was going to confront Philip over the accusation. Having known them for so long, he thought of Philip as a brother and Theresa, a sister. This was going to end one of two ways: he was going to get the truth and fix this, or he was going to kick his best friend's ass for hurting Theresa.

 

 

Damien felt the car jolt to a stop in front of his boss's Berkshire home; he jumped out of the car before his agent could open the door and rushed through the threshold of the house. "Where is he?" he asked Caryl, Philip's guard.

 

 

"Upstairs. He hasn't been...well."

 

 

"RIght. Well, I'm about to get this sorted." Taking two stairs at a time, he was determined to get to the bedroom. Bursting through the door, he spotted Philip, passed out in bed with empty whiskey bottles everywhere. Walking to the end of the bed, he yanked the comforter off the sleeping form.

 

 

"What the hell?!" Philip exclaimed as he struggled to find and put his glasses on. Sitting up, he saw who disturbed his slumber, "Damien? What are you doing?"

 

 

"You. Up. Now."

 

 

"Not until-HEY!" Philip exclaimed as Damien grabbed his arm and pulled hi, into the bathroom before plopping him down on the toilet. "Well, that wasn't necessary."

 

 

"Did you cheat on Theresa?'

 

 

Philip looked exasperated. "Great. She got to you to."

 

 

"No. She looks horrible, she's not wearing her wedding rings, and there is a rumor in the House of Commons. So, I ask again, did you cheat?"

 

 

Philip sighed. "No, I didn't." Damien cast a scrutinizing eye on him. "I swear to God."

 

 

"Then what the hell is wrong?"

 

 

"I was planning a vacation for us. Sara is in charge of Theresa's schedule, and I enlisted her help-"

 

 

"And Theresa assumed you were," Damien said, piecing everything together.

 

 

"Exactly."

 

 

"Why didn't you just tell her that?"

 

 

"Because we had this awful fight Saturday, and she left. She took off her wedding rings off and left me a letter. That's how I even found out she thought that."

 

 

Damien stood still for a moment, letting the what he had just been told sink in. He suddenly grabbed Philip and pushed him in the shower, switching the faucet on before slamming the door. "You have ten minutes to get ready."

 

 

"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, DAMIEN!" a now soaked and pissed Philip shouted.

 

 

Walking out, Damien yelled over his shoulder, "Ten minutes! That's it!"

 

 

True to his set time, Philip came downstairs wearing decent clothes, freshly shaven, and no longer smelling of cheap liquor. "Good," Damien remarked. "Put your coat on."

 

 

"Where are we going?"

 

 

"I'm taking you for real food, something other than take out."

 

 

Philip huffed but did as he was told and made his way to the car. It was only when they started driving in the opposite direction of town did Philip begin to panic, "Where are we going, Damien?"

 

 

"London," Damien nonchalantly replied.

 

 

"Umm, why?"

 

 

"I'm late for a cabinet meeting, and you need your wife back."

 

 

"No! Absolutely not! Stop the car!" Philip exclaimed. The driver merely kept his eyes firmly fixed to the road, having been warned this might happen.

 

 

.................

 

Arriving at Downing Street was interesting. Philip had to be physically removed from the car; it was quite funny seeing him carried in through the backdoor over an MI5 agent's shoulder. Although, Damien had wanted to strangle him by the time they got there. Philip had whined the whole way there and only stopped it when Damien had forcibly told him to shut it. Reaching the Cabinet Room, Damien threw the door open to the shock of his colleagues and the woman's marriage he was trying to save. Philip tried to make a break for it, but Damien caught his collar in a firm grip.

 

 

A upset and startled Theresa stood up. "What on earth are you doing? And why are you late?" She went from confused to cold when Damien stepped aside and pulled Philip in the room. "What is he doing here?" she asked emotionless.

 

 

Damien snapped his head up to meet her steely eyes, "Because you two need to fix this."

 

 

"I have nothing to say to him," she said defiantly. The entirety of the cabinet sat stock still, afraid to even breathe as they watched the prime minister's personal drama unfold in front of their eyes.

 

 

"Well, he has something to say," Damien said, nudging Philip forward.

 

 

"That adulterer can keep it." There was an audible gasp around the table.

 

 

"Oh for God's sake, I didn't cheat on you with Sara." Philip sighed in frustration.

 

 

Boris Johnson piped up with, "Sara Smith? nice." His comment and smile promptly earned him a slap to the back of the head from Amber Rudd and Justine Greening, both of whom were sitting on either side of him.

 

 

"Really?! Then why did you let her hang all over you? Why were you discussing a hotel booking with her? And tell her you were glad I hadn't found out yet? Why did you call her after I left?" Theresa asked angrily.

 

 

Michael Gove mumbled, "You are so fucked," at Philip.

 

 

"The answer to your first question is because she liked my tie. the second, I was planning a vacation for us, and I was trying to be romantic and surprise you. I called her to cancel the booking because of the awful fight we had. Are those answers to your satisfaction?!" Philip bit back.

 

 

Philip Hammond stood up and calmly said, "Why don't we all calm down?"

 

 

"Shut up, Phil!" yelled almost everyone in the room. Needless to say, he did as he was told and sat back down.

 

 

"I didn't cheat on you, Theresa. I could never do that."

 

 

Theresa pulled herself together enough to look around the table, "Could you all excuse us?" Never had a group of people left a room so quickly. When the last filed out, she turned back to look at her husband. "You were planning a vacation for us?"

 

 

Philip stepped closer to her. "Yes. I can tell you've been stressed and to make up for the fact we didn't get to celebrate your birthday...properly. It's set right before Christmas."

 

 

"Would you like to...explain?"

 

 

"Please." Theresa nodded, telling him to start. "Sara is in charge of your schedule. So, I had her look at dates for us to be able to get away. I started planning it before the conference then your speech happened, and I knew you needed a break."

 

 

Teary-eyed, Theresa looked down. "Oh, Philip, I'm so sorry." Slowly, she sank into her chair before burying her head in her hands and crying.

 

 

Rushing to her, Philip kneeled in front of her and took her in his arms;  he rocked her back and forth, repeating "its not your fault" and "its okay, love" until she calmed a bit. "Will you look at me?" Theresa met his blue eyes with her red, puffy green ones. "Why did you think I would cheat? Do you not trust me?"

 

 

"No! That's not it at all. I know I haven't been spending that much time with you lately and she's younger...more attractive...more fun. And there is this little voice of doubt in my head; it makes me question everything." Theresa looked back down, ashamed of her confession, and she started crying again.

 

 

"Oh, love, I could never do that. I would never want to."

 

 

She was sobbing, and it was hard for him to make out what she was saying. But he could make out the words "babies" and "lose". Philip wanted to punch himself because he knew what she had probably said, and it broke his heart knowing he had put that back in her head. "Hey," he tilted her head up, "don't do that. Don't say that. I was so wrong to tell you what happened was your fault. I was beyond wrong. It was inexcusable."

 

 

"But...but you were right. If I had slowed down and taken care of-" Philip cut her off by pressing his fingers to her lips.

 

 

"No. You couldn't help what happened. No one could. You remember what the doctor said; they were inevitable."

 

 

"I'm so sorry. I know how much you wanted them, how much we wanted them." Theresa was hoarse from crying, and her words were barely a whisper.

 

 

Philip rested his forehead against hers. "I almost lost you the last time. As much as I love children, I love you more. I could never lose you, Theresa. You are the love of my life. I know you look in the mirror and see every single flaw, but I don't. I see a strong, beautiful, intelligent, kind woman, the same girl I fell in love with the moment I saw her. I wouldn't trade you for anything, love...because without you, I would have nothing. I would be nothing. Our love isn't water under the bridge to me."

 

 

Theresa wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. "Philip John May, I love you."

 

 

"I love you too. More than you'll ever know." Philip buried his head in her neck, breathing in her all too familiar scent; it was warm, and airy, and pure Theresa. It was the smell of home. Turning his head slightly, he whispered, "If it makes things better, Sara is gay, and she has a crush on Ruth Davidson."

 

 

Theresa's laughter, her real, unbridled belly laugh, rang through the corridors.


	5. Perfect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! The final chapter of this!! I hope you enjoy!!

December 21, 2017

 

After sitting and having a long conversation with Philip about everything, Theresa had called Sara into her office and apologized profusely. Being the gracious girl she was, Sara had accepted it with a smile and didn’t mention it again. Theresa did decide that the vacation Philip had planned was too good to pass up on, and it would be a good way for them to reconnect. She had been shocked when she saw the destination: Oahu, Hawaii. She knew Philip hated long flights, but he had reassured her he wanted to go, saying they needed something new. 

 

Philip had one more surprise for her when they got there. Instead of driving to one of the many resorts, they took a boat to a smaller island where Philip had rented a house that came with its own private part of beach; Theresa had been overwhelmed with it all and ended up crying against his shoulder that night. 

 

That’s how she found herself in a hammock with her back against Philip’s chest on their bedroom balcony, softly swaying in the tropical breeze, and watching the sunset over the beautiful blue of the ocean. The radio was playing in the background, the two people snuggled into each other were on cloud nine. 

 

“Philip,” Theresa said gently. 

 

“Yes, Love?”

 

She was holding his hand over her shoulder and started fiddling with his wedding band. “Do you remember when we went on holiday that one time, and you forgot to pack more than one pair of underwear because we were in a such a rush in leaving?” she finished laughing. 

 

Philip let out a cackle at the memory. “Oh, yes! And we couldn’t find any, so I ended going bare for a week and a half!”

 

“You got quite fed up when we went walking.”

 

“Well, my...you know...kept hitting my leg. It wasn’t exactly fun for me.”

 

“No, but it made getting undressed easier,” Theresa said, turning so she was facing him. 

 

“Yes,” Philip leaned in and pecked her lips. “If I remember correctly, that holiday we didn’t see much other than our room.”

 

“I was starting menopause and was pumped full of hormones; you should be glad we even left the house.”

 

“Hmmm, it was a great vacation.”

 

Theresa looked down at their entwined hands before whispering, “What do you think they would’ve looked like, been like? Our children.”

 

Philip was taken aback at the question. Of course he had thought about it through the years, but he never mentioned it, afraid it would upset his wife. He saw tears brimming in the beautiful green eyes he had come to adore over the years. “I think they would’ve been gorgeous, of course,” he said giving a soft smile as Theresa looked up. “Our first girl would’ve looked just like you. Beautiful and lovely in every way. She might’ve had my eyes, but a miniature you. What about you? What do you think?”

 

“I think you’re right about that. Our second, our little boy, he would’ve been tall, taller than me at least. And he would have dark hair and bright blue eyes,” she said, biting her lip in an attempt to fight the water threatening to leak from her eyes.

 

Philip tilted her head up to look at him and gently wiped a fallen tear from her cheek. “He would’ve had your personality. He would be gentle and sweet and shy and stick to you like glue. He would be the one to stand up when someone said something unkind about his mummy.” 

 

Theresa slowly nodded and gave up trying to fight it, feeling her face become wet with the sorrow and grief and pain of what happened so many years ago. “Our youngest was our surprise. I never expected her to come along.”

 

“Neither did I,” Philip said softly. She was right about their third and final heartbreak. Philip had come home one day in December of 1995, and found Theresa sitting in their bathroom, pale and speechless. When she had mumbled the words ‘I’m pregnant’, Philip felt the air leave his lungs. He had asked if she was sure, and she pointed to the sink where nine pregnancy tests lay, all positive. They had confirmation from their doctor, and they were so excited. Cautious but excited. Then, it happened all over again, and they both decided that they were done. No more. 

 

“She would’ve been like you. Funny...charming...and full of compassion,” Theresa said, breaking his memory. “She would’ve had your hair-“

 

“But your eyes and definitely your smile.”  
Theresa buried her head in Philip’s neck and inhaled the scent that had comforted for decades now. She felt him rub soothing circles on her back, and slowly, her breathing calmed. “Dance with me.”

 

Raising her head, she looked into his eyes, those blue eyes that could put the bluest ocean to shame. “What? Here?”

 

“Yes,” he said standing, pulling her by her hand up with him. “I happen to like this song.” He reached over and turned the volume up. 

 

‘I found a love for me...’

 

Philip slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her close to him. Theresa wrapped her arms around his neck brought their foreheads together before whispering, “I didn’t know you were so...modern with your music tastes.”

 

“I still have a few surprises,” he said smirking. 

 

‘...Well I found a girl beautiful and sweet 

I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Cause we were just kids when we fell in love...’

 

They were swaying, bodies pressed close together. They could feel their hearts become synchronized to the others and to the music. Philip started singing underneath his breath with the lyrics,

 

‘...Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes...’

 

Philip turned them, maneuvering them around the balcony as they danced barefoot with the sinking sun being their only light. 

 

‘...Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight.’

 

“You are perfect, you know,” Philip observed as the music faded. “Perfect for me.”

 

Theresa leaned in and gently pressed their lips together, letting herself melt into her husband. “Make love to me. Make me forget about everything except us,” she said breathlessly. 

 

Philip nodded before picking her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her through the French doors into their bedroom. Laying her down gently, he pushed her light cotton dress up and over her head as she took his shirt and swimming trunks off. Philip used a feather like touch to remove the rest of her clothing, making sure to gently kiss her body. 

 

Theresa heard him mumble ‘So beautiful’ into her stomach, and she shivered. Using her strength, she rolled them over so Philip was sat against headboard with her straddling him. Slowly, she raised and took him in her, never breaking eye contact. Her hands cupped his face as she rested her forehead against his. She felt his hands rest in her waist as she started moving. Every nerve ending was sensitive from the gentleness that was being exchanged. 

 

Long, deep, drawn out kisses and the whispered ‘I love you’s’ were being given and taken like it was the only thing that could keep them alive. For the two people sharing their bodies, it was about so much more than the release. It was an act, a physical representation, of how they were connected: mind, body, heart, and soul. It was about both of them, an equal give and take between two lovers. And when they found that precipice of pleasure, it was together. 

 

Philip felt Theresa’s body relax on top of him as sleep took her when he softly placed her on her back. She stirred and sleepily said, “Thank you.”

 

“For what, Love?”

 

“For being my heart,” she slurred as she snuggled into his side. 

 

“It’s been a privilege.”

 

The end.


End file.
